The Way to His Heart
by WhosInTheAttic
Summary: While Rose is out shopping, the Doctor is home alone and finds himself in an awkward position.


The Doctor is hunched over and his back is starting to ache. _Lousy half-human muscles, _he grumbles to himself. He's been struggling to extricate himself from his predicament, feeling his body as well as his pride bruising as he realizes it is futile. Rose is running late, and should be home any moment, and she will find him…like _this_. Just the prospect of it makes him flush with embarrassment. He renews his efforts.

Thinking back to when this all started, more than two hours ago, he still can't figure out what possessed him to do…_this_. He shifts to the best of his ability, trying to find a comfortable way to stand and a suitable excuse to give when she gets back from doing the shopping. He shifts his weight from his right foot, to his left, and back again.

Another thirty agonizing minutes tick by before he hears Rose outside the door, her key fitting into the lock, the knob turning, the door creaking open, and then…laughter.

"Doctor, what have you done?" the level of mirth in her voice wounds his pride.

"Uh, hi Rose! How was the shopping?" he asks, his voice nonchalant, despite his face being red with embarrassment.

Rose was still chuckling. "The shopping was fine." She sets the bags on the floor next to the door and crouches on the stairs to look him in the eye. "And how did _this _happen?" she asks, motioning at the two rails trapping his head, trying very hard to quell her laughter at the love of her life, hunched over with his head caught in the banister.

"Well, I, um…I sort of…fell," he lies (badly).

"_Sure_ you did," she stifles the last of her giggles with a tongue-touched smile.

"Rose?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Could you, possibly…assist me?"

"Of course," she plants a kiss on his temple before circling around the banister and heading toward the kitchen. She pauses to admire his bum and give it a playful swat. "On second thought, maybe I should keep you like this." She trails her fingertips lightly across the small of his back as she passes him.

"Oi! No fair!" he protests. This is almost worse than that time he'd spent a day in the stocks in nineteenth century Yorkshire. Sure, no one was hurling rotten produce at him this time, but being embarrassed in front of Rose was almost worse than being pelted by eggs that had gone off. He crinkled his nose at the memory, and at the hours he'd spent after his clever escape picking eggshells out of his hair aboard the TARDIS.

Rose disappears down the hall toward the kitchen, and he hears her opening and closing cabinets before returning. "Good thing you're partial to oranges," she told him. "This stuff stains, so let's get your shirt off." She pulls at his Beatles tee, and together they wrestle his arms free and pull it through the rails of the banister and up over his head. "This might be a bit unpleasant," she says, moving around to sit on the stairs and uncapping the orange oil, "but it's better than using the cooking oil." She tips some of the fragrant oil into her palm, and says gently, Okay, stand up, straight as you like." When the Doctor shifts as requested, wincing a little at the twinge in his back, she begins working the oil around his jaw.

This situation is utterly hilarious, and yet she's still aroused at the feel of his stubble beneath her fingertips. Her eyes fall shut for a moment and she lets out a sigh. One corner of her mouth quirks itno a smile, _If someone had told me years ago that this is how I'd be spending a Friday evening with the Doctor, I'd have thought they were barmy, _she thought.After a moment, she snaps to. "Okay, now try," she urges.

The Doctor groans as he attempts to tug himself free, and getting nowhere; the rails are catching on the sides of his head and crushing his ears painfully. She resettles herself on the step, and rubs some more orange oil into her palms, stroking his ears. She sees the muscles of his back ripple as his breath catches and his hands grip the rails on either side of his head just a bit tighter. Rose smiles and bites her lip, stroking his earlobes with her fingertips in a lingering way. The Doctor mutters something like, "Don't you think it's unethical to..." before making a low sound in his throat.

She tips more oil into her hand, this time onto her fingers so she can work it into the hair above his ears. She savors the feel of it against the pads of her fingertips before scraping gently at his scalp with her nails. Another small sound comes from deep in his throat, and it causes her to flush.

"Okay, _now _try," Rose says, her voice a little softer this time, her mind still fixated on the image of his smooth, lean back.

He pulls with his body and pushes with his arms against the banister, and his head comes lose with a jerk. He stumbles back a couple steps before righting himself, and lets out a relieved groan as he stands upright, pressing his palms into the small of his arched back. "How long 'ave you been that way?" Rose asks.

He tugs at his oiled earlobe and mumbles something she can't make out, rubbing his neck in a nervous gesture that turns into one of nursing an ache.

"What was that?" she asks, coming around to stand in front of him, gripping his waist in her oiled hands. She looks at him flirtatiously, her tongue tucked into the corner of a lopsided smile, eyeing his chest before meeting his gaze.

"Approximately three hours," he says in a quiet voice, his eyes darting toward the door.

She laughs and his eyes snap to hers with a wounded expression, until she throws her arms around him. He's confused, but encircles her in his arms anyway. She whispers in his ear, "I got you something special."

"Oh?" He secretly hoped it was something sexy, like new knickers. Or maybe one of those books he'd very pointedly _not _been flipping through at the bookstore; the one with all the diagrams and examples of sexual positions. Humans could be quite the creative lot, in some respects.

"Yep," she smiles, mimicking his way of popping the 'p, "So why don't you go get cleaned up while I get your surprise ready?"

He gives her an impish smile and slides his hands over the curves of her bum. "Do I get a hint as to what this surprise is?" He gives her another squeeze and draws her closer, leaning in close to her ear, "Just one hint?" His breath on her skin gives her chills, and he presses his hips into hers.

Rose reluctantly withdraws, "No hints. Now get in the shower; you smell like an orange grove." He gives her a pout and then hurries up the stairs. She peeks up after him to make sure he's gone, and then retrieves the shopping bags. In the kitchen Rose puts away everything but her little surprise, and sets to work preparing it for her Doctor.

When he walks into the kitchen twenty minutes later, wearing pajama bottoms and his Beatles tee, he can't help but smile; on the counter there are plates for each of them, and two glasses of red wine. Rose is standing next to the counter holding a fairy cake. A fairy cake topped with edible ball bearings. "Oh Rose," he says, smiling.

Rose runs her finger along the edge of the pastry before closing the distance between them. She slowly extends her finger to his lips, "You should have a taste," she says seductively, biting her bottom lip and gazing at his mouth.

"Oh?" he waggles his eyebrows and takes her finger between his lips, enjoying the way her eyes fall shut at the ministrations of his tongue. When he withdraws her finger from his mouth with a quiet pop, he grins, "Banana! I love bananas! Bananas are good."

Rose smiles, "Yes, they are," she offers the fairy cake to him and he takes it carefully. She twists to pick up a glass of wine, and offers him one once he's removed the paper from the fairy cake. Taking a second pastry from behind her, she slowly peels the paper away and places it behind her back. As she begins to bring it to her mouth, she discovers that there's no sexy way to eat a fairy cake, so she just takes a big bite. She looks at the Doctor in surprise; his cheeks are ballooned out, and there is banana frosting in his lips as well as his fingers, where he's holding the fairy cake paper.

She grins, watching him swallow down his mouthful of sweet pastry. "Your manners are impeccable as always," she teases, reaching out with her thumb to wipe a bit of frosting from the corner of his mouth. He catches her wrist gently in his hand and turns his head slightly to pull her thumb between his lips, his tongue swiping over the sugary glob. Rose sighs at the sensation, and he releases her thumb and her hand before giving her a smirk. She takes a drink of her wine to calm herself, to have something—anything—to do with her hands and mouth besides what she was thinking about.

"Oh, you're one to talk, Rose," he says knowingly. He leans forward, dropping the fairy cake paper on the counter. His lips are inches from hers, and her eyes keep moving from his eyes to his lips. He sets his glass down, and reaches up to cup her cheek, brushing his thumb lightly across her lips. His other hand grips her hip gently and pulls her to him as he presses himself against her. The hand at her face shifts across her cheek, and now his fingertips are playing across her lips.

Rose is breathless under his attentions for a moment before she finally whispers, "Am I?"

With that, he reaches his index finger up and swipes a bit of frosting from the end of her nose. He shows it to her smugly, and she gives him a tongue-touched smile before closing the distance between them pressing her lips to his. She lets her tongue slide out to feel at the seam of his lips, begging entrance. She has just enough time to realize she can taste the sweet remnants of icing on them before his mouth opens to her.

Their tongues slide along each other languorously, first in his mouth, then in hers, retreating only long enough to nip and suck at each other's lips, stealing a breath of air before plunging once more into another kiss. The Doctor's hands are at her waist now, their hips eagerly pressing into one another, the evidence of his arousal beginning to press into Rose's flesh.

The Doctor's fingers skate under the hem of her shirt, his palms following closely behind, taking in the feel of her flushed skin beneath them. Rose arches into him as he palms her breasts over her bra, giving them a squeeze. She reaches out to him, her hands slipping under his shirt as well, savoring the tickle of the hairs on his stomach against her fingertips before slipping them further upward, raking her palms through the more generous patch spread across his chest.

The Doctor sighs against her lips as she runs her fingertips lightly across his nipples, causing the tender flesh to tighten. He draws in a hiss of pleasure before he slides his hands around the curves of Rose's ribs and behind her back to deftly unhook her bra before reversing course and taking her breasts in his hands once more. Now it was her turn to voice her pleasure against his mouth.

She revels in the sensation of his soft warm palms cradling her flesh, her nipples gently being worked between his fingers until they are hard brown peaks. She rolls his nipples gently between her fingers, and he gives a small gasp, "Rose," he whispers, his breath ghosting over her lips. They break apart and begin to pull at each other's shirts; his comes off first, followed quickly by hers, each falling almost inaudibly to the linoleum. Rose allows her bra to slip down her shoulders and fall off her arms and to the floor before seizing the Doctor in her arms once more, wrapping her arms around him. He reciprocates, pulling her to him, pressing his hips into hers.

The heat of his flesh against hers is almost more than she can bear; she feels a twinge low in her stomach and considerable moisture in her knickers. "Doctor," she whimpers, pressing her fingers firmly into his back and raking them downward to grip his bum, "I want you." Rose pulls him against her and he lets out a small groan at the pressure and friction it creates before grinding his hips into her further.

He bends to press his lips to her left collarbone, his tongue snaking out from between them to create a wet path to the join of her neck and shoulder, where he nips her lightly at her flesh. As he exhales through his nose, the warm air ghosting across her neck sends chills through her body and raises goose bumps across her skin. His lips travel up to the lobe of her ear, which he gently nips before nuzzling her. "Rose Tyler, I love you," he whispers.

"Doctor," she sighs, "you still smell like oranges," He smiles against her skin, lightly trailing his cheek along hers until their lips meet again for a soft kiss, "And I love you too." Both try to hold back their smiles as their lips meet again, and the Doctor creates space between their bodies so his can work the button and zip of her trousers. Rose arches her back, pressing her breasts to his chest, and his hands start to shake a little as they work. With his mouth over hers, he feels her fingers slide into his hair, her nails scratching gently at his scalp. He growls weakly into her mouth and deepens the kiss, and Rose can't help but clench her fists in his hair lightly and pull, allowing his soft locks to slip through her fingertips before repeating the whole process again. The third time she rakes her nails along his scalp (just above and behind his ears this time) his hips push against hers with a surprising bit of force, and his hands migrate from her waist, where his thumbs have been stroking little circles into her skin, to her hips, where he hooks her belt loops with his fingers and begins to pull her trousers down.

Rose breaks the kiss and moves for his neck, her full lips teasing at his flesh, the sensation causing his eyes to fall shut, savoring the sensation. He leans his head back as she moves to run her tongue over his Adam's apple, delighting in the feel of his voice vibrating against her lips as he lets out a whimper. His fingers are playing at the waistband of her knickers, his palm pressed to her navel. She dips her tongue into the hollow of his throat and he groans, finally slipping his fingers beneath her waistband. He runs his fingers over her curls, searching lower; as he slips his finger between her folds to stroke her swollen clit, she moans against his flesh, trailing kisses toward the round of his shoulder.

The Doctor enjoys that sound, and applies more pressure and falls into a circular rhythm; he wants to hear it again, and is rewarded with an even needier noise as she gently bites his shoulder. She can feel warmth radiating through her, feel the tightening in her womb, the arousal coiling there like a spring. He dips his fingers lower, feeling the slick want collecting there, "Oh Rose, you're so wet," his voice is husky. Rose palms him through the thin flannel of his pajamas, allowing her fingertips to ghost over his balls. He bites his lip to stifle a groan as she moves her hand, moving his own lower, sliding a finger into her. He moves his hand rhythmically for a few moments, allowing his palm to apply much needed friction to her clitoris. She steps out of her trousers, pooled at her ankles so she can open her legs to him further, and he dips a second finger into her warmth. Rose lets out a groan of her own, tipping her head back and sighing. The Doctor takes the opportunity to nibble at her exposed neck, enjoying the feel of her pulse against his lips and the feel of her inner muscles working against his fingers as they curl against her wet flesh.

She's stroking the length of his erection though his jimjams, and then pulls at the tie of the waistband, before slipping her hand inside. She runs her fingers lightly along his length for a moment before encircling him and giving him a gentle squeeze. "Couch," she says raggedly, and he reluctantly reclaims his fingers. Rose can't bear to completely release him, so she leads the way, tugging him by the waistband of his pajamas down the short hallway and into the living room. While her back is turned, the Doctor slips first one wet finger into his mouth, and then the other. He simply adores everything about Rose, and loves the taste of her on his tongue, salty and sweet and _Rose_. When they're nearly to the couch, she whirls on him and kisses his lips again, enjoying her taste on his lips, unsurprised to find it there. She tugs at his pajamas, pulling them down enough so that they fall the rest of the way on their own, pooling at his ankles.

Rose gives the Doctor a little push, and he falls back weakly onto the sofa, sitting there helplessly under her hungry gaze. He still doesn't fully understand what she sees in him; how she sees a man and not a monster, how she sees a handsome lover and not a battle-weary old man. She crawls into his lap, straddling him, kissing him. She caresses his cheek, and looks into his deep brown eyes. "I love you, my Doctor," she says. He smiles warmly at her and traces his fingertips lightly across her flesh until they come to rest on her hips. She reaches between them and takes his erection in her hand guiding him to her entrance, looking him in the eyes as she lowers herself onto him.

Rose loves that face, when his mouth falls open, his eyes get slightly wide, and his jaw trembles ever so slightly. In those moments, she feels like he worships her. Sometimes the look is so powerful she wonders if he might cry. In that instant, her Doctor is laid bare before her and it makes her heart swell with joy. He's fully inside her now, hands gripping ineffectually at her hips as she stills herself, giving him a moment to adjust.

He's looking up at her, the same dumb look spread on his face that he always gets in these moments. He wants to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can't look away from Rose. She's beautiful like this, her skin flushed and pink, her eyes sparkling at him, peering into him with so much love he'd think she believed he hung the moon just for her. When she starts to move, he sucks in a ragged harsh breath and bites his lip, unable to stifle a moan.

The feel of her flesh against him—around him—is nearly overwhelming. He's not sure if it's pure pleasure, pure happiness, or a lack of oxygen, but he's seeing little spots before his eyes, flickering like stars. He reaches weakly for her breasts, squeezing them gently, playing his fingertips over her nipples, running his hands lightly down her torso before curling his fingers around her waist, each movement more reverent than the last. When he grips her waist gently, he glances down at where they are joined before flicking his eyes up to meet hers. She smiles down at him, tongue peeking through her teeth before she leans down to cover his mouth with her own. Rose rolls her hips and he lets out an involuntary growl against her lips. "Rose," he calls out, his voice husky and uneven. She tosses her head back and arches her spine, threading her hands into his hair as she rolls her hips again, this time letting out a sharp and sudden moan of her own. She's found just the right place, and her speed increases as she moves against him. Little cries fall from her lips as he buries his face in the valley between her breasts, kneading and squeezing them with his hands, caressing her nipples between his fingers, savoring the feel of her muscles clenching around him, her hands in his hair, fingers scraping his scalp. The sensation is all too much, and his hips buck involuntarily, driving him deeper into her, causing her to groan and pull even harder at his hair.

The Doctor wraps his arms around her torso, pulling her close to him, so he can keep them joined as he maneuvers them into a lying position, himself on top. He shifts one hand up to grip her shoulder, forearm still pinned under her back, the other hand, he extricates and reaches for her cheek. He cups her face in his hand and gazes down into her eyes.

Rose is looking up at him and biting her lip, in awe of the sparkle in his eyes. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to her full lips before tracing his fingers along her neck, down her arm, over her breast, across her stomach, and pauses momentarily to grip her hip, all the while taking in her soft smile and hazel eyes. He trails his hand along her thigh, coming to rest at the bend in her knee and pulling her leg up gently, her thigh slung high on his hip.

He begins to move again, thrusting gently into her at first before driving into her with firmer, faster strokes. Her legs are curled around his, her toes curling into his calves as she rolls her hips in time to the rhythm he was creating. She's breathing heavily beneath him, her hands curled around him, clutching at his bum. He slows his pace just a little and leans down to whisper in her ear, "Thank you, Rose," he tells her.

"Doctor," she sighs.

"Thank you for being my wife." He pulls back slowly to look her in the eyes, and she's smiling at him, one of her hands skating up the length of his back, her fingers curling into his hair, drawing his mouth to hers for a kiss. Her other hand is still clutching him to her, encouraging his rhythm and caressing his bare flesh. It gives him chills.

Rose breaks the kiss and sighs against his lips, "I love you, Doctor," she bites her lip, and he can feel her clench around him. He knows she's getting closer. "Harder," she moans, her head falling against the cushion with pleasure. The Doctor obeys, and lavishes her exposed throat with kisses as he pushes into her with as much force as he dares. He's breathing raggedly against her flesh now, nipping at her neck, closing his eyes tightly, trying desperately to stave off his own impending orgasm.

Rose feels the Doctor inside of her, feels his warm wet lips working along the length of her neck, and she's so close. She's running toward the edge of a cliff, and has stopped right by the edge, peering into the abyss, her balance wavering before she finally falls, tumbling end over end into her orgasm. "Oh, _oh_," she calls out, the first in a string of incoherent syllables. She pulls the Doctor to her and half-sighs, half-whimpers his name. His _real _name.

When Rose calls out his name, he can't hold back any longer, can't resist the sensation of his flesh against hers, buried within her, their limbs entangled, their sweat mingling, sharing breath, their two hearts beating frantically against each other's flesh; hearing his true name from her lips carries him over the edge, and he joins her. He cries out her name as his rhythm falls apart and he spills himself into her.

As her orgasm subsides, Rose clutches the Doctor to her, not ready for him to leave her arms or her body just yet. Not that he seems to have any intention of that; he's collapsed on top of her, breathing heavily against her neck. She can feel him smiling against her skin, and she brings a hand up to stroke his shoulder before curling her arms around him. "How did this happen?" she asks dreamily.

"Well, you rescued me from distress and then fed me sweets. Not just any sweets, mind you, but edible ball bearings; edible ball bearings on top of _banana_ _frosting_. What's that saying you humans have?" Rose tries not to groan at the Oncoming Gob as he continues. "Oh right, something like, "The fastest way to a man's heart is through his sto—"

"Doctor," she cuts him off, "That's not what I meant." He shifts off of her, and they somehow manage to squeeze themselves onto the couch, side-by-side, facing each other.

He props himself up on his elbow and looks her in the eyes, "I know," he smiles stealing a kiss, "But if I told you, 'I have no idea how an old git like me got so lucky, Rose Tyler,' you might think I'm not clever anymore," he kisses her again, "And you might start getting a big ego on you; your head might swell up like the Face of Boe."

They laugh and hold each other, Rose gently swatting him. Her giggles peter out as her eyes grow heavy. She yawns and curls up closer to the Doctor, and, growing weary himself, he slings an arm around her and pulls her into an embrace. He closes his eyes and falls asleep to the sound of her steady breathing.


End file.
